


Quiescence

by eskimopuppy



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 04:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5992086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eskimopuppy/pseuds/eskimopuppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She had tried both silver and gold – what was the use of them in death?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiescence

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another short fic about Delphine's development throughout the show, this time prompted by a proverb (that I hope to have translated correctly to French). Some of it derives from my infinite headcanons about Delphine's past, so by all means, feel free to disagree – or not! Enjoy :)

_La parole est d'argent, mais le silence est d'or._

She had always heard that saying at boarding school. The girls were strictly advised not to complain there; not herself, since she had been a student for many years, almost long enough to obliterate the memory of residing anywhere else – of having an actual  _home_ –, but the new ones, who found it difficult to let go of their comfort and freedom for an entirely new environment, surrounded by strangers in a place full of restrictions...

Mlle. Cormier was more than used to all of it. Never had she been less than a role model to her peers. Excellent grades, spotless behaviour, the epitome of a "good girl".

Dr. Cormier was not much different. A report filled with A+s, not a single subject neglected. Immunology was her passion, though she couldn't quite recall when it became such an important part of her life; and frankly, she wasn't looking for an explanation. It seemed obvious to her, picking a field so alike her own nature, all about building up defenses against any harm that might come from outside... Or, at times, from within.

Her career as a scientist required curiosity at all times, no fear of pursuing new discoveries, but growing up away from family turned her into a perfect spartan when it came to her feelings. They were still there, of course (can one ever truly get rid of them?), she had just learned to cope with them on her own, quickly, efficiently, the way an infection should be approached, and move on to more pressing matters, like making a future for herself.

Dr. Leekie's offer had been the opportunity of a lifetime. Determined to put all of the abilities she had developed along her academic experience thus far to good use, she jumped aboard without inquiring much further than the essentials. _Monitor_ , that's what he said she would be. She thought the word adequate, distanced enough, and nodded quietly as Aldous proceeded to describe her duties.

However, the detachment expected from the title had little foundation in reality. During the initial interactions with 324b21, who actually went by the name Cosima, she felt something shift inside her. Suffice to say that she  _felt_ , which was more than she could say of the past six or seven years. Human subjects were by far the biggest challenge she had had to face – especially ones who shared the _same face_. She didn't want to lie to Cosima, but her future was on the line; also, judging by the lengths the DYAD Institute was willing to go to watch their patients – apparently the cloning process hadn't been entirely successful and some of them were dying of a mysterious disease? – she couldn't risk exposure. Besides, concealing her intentions of joining the scientific crusade to a cure was, as of yet, in her best interest. Who knew how Cosima would react to being so closely inspected by a stranger? She remembered the girls who would refuse the warm welcome the older students offered them on their arrival; how they would swat away the hands that tried to give them some consolation during the initial weeks of their (often long) stay at boarding school. She told herself she would let Cosima break the proverbial ice on her own; as much as her guilt grew with each passing minute spent beside Cos–  _beside her subject_ , she had to honour the confidentiality agreement she had signed. 324b21 should remain as naive as possible.

There was just a tiny little problem with that task: it was impossible. From their first interaction, Delphine could see that  _naive_  was the last thing Cosima was. And it was not up to her to stop her from digging deeper into her own life, her own biology. As a scientist, she understood the thrill, unlocking one's origins, seeking the answers that seemed so elusive, so hell bent on slipping through her fingers. Their struggle was the same, though hers was much more general in comparison to Cosima's personal battle to save her sisters. How could she not relate to that? No, she decided, long after watching her examine what could only be her own genetic material (hers? her clones'?) at the lab before their first meeting. Yes, she would play the double agent, no matter what sacrifices she had to do.

Never in her life had Delphine Cormier been so invested in her job. Or so she told herself.

No one had smiled at or been so kind to her as 324b21. No one had ever seen her cry; she almost never did, but the rare occasions when it did happen, absolute privacy was the main condition. So fake crying in the middle of a public corridor had been far from easy. But smiling back at her, shaking hands, meant so much more than a mere "Enchantée" could ever convey. Words were never enough, she would come to learn very soon. She blamed her guilt for having to deceive such a sweet girl for bursting into real tears seconds after arriving at her room a few minutes later that same day.

The next morning, she felt her chest much lighter. Despite the headache threatening to split her skull in half, she felt it was much easier to breathe, and she knew she owed the same to 324b– to  _Cosima_. The best way she knew how to repay her was sticking with DYAD. With all their resources and influence, they were the closest thing to an actual chance of a cure she had to offer.

So she kept her mouth shut, played her part, Delphine Beraud,  _bonjour, Cosima_ , until everything changed.

"She made a pass at me, Aldous."

Only Delphine knew how hard it had been for her to share that moment – a turning point in her life, she knew for sure – with cold, unfeeling Dr. Leekie. The sweet flavour of Cosima's lips against hers turned bitter with deception and betrayal once she let the confession come out. Immediately, she recalled the words that had dictated her youth. _Speech is silver, but silence is gold._ Aldous was not worthy of of listening to a single thing she had to say about Cosima. And he wouldn't, ever again, unless it was absolutely necessary. Unless her life were in danger.

Under her monitor alias, the one who should shield her identity from her subject and allow her to do her job undisturbed by personal restraints, she saw herself unable to shut up. Her eyes poured the love poems she had never written as a teenager – who would she even write them for? – all over Cosima's face; her erratic breaths caressed every inch of skin available; their bodies moved in natural sync, not perfect, but beautiful nonetheless; even her tongue slid over her lips whenever Cosima smiled or laughed, aching to take a sip of her spontaneous cheerfulness, so unlike her own usual seriousness, right from the source, a desert wanderer at last kneeling before an oasis. Her only wish was that it didn't turn out to be a mirage.

Her mind and heart were a complete mess, voices speaking one over the other, but all urging her to just  _kiss her, s'il te plaît_.

And she did, many, many times, though she felt an explanation was due first. Had she been able to remember those words from her early years, she would have spared precious time and taken Cosima on the spot, bestowed all her feelings on the bed where both lay, no sound but that of lips meeting and parting only to meet again, of hearts thumping inside ribcages, of air escaping restless lungs, layers and layers of clothes, sheets, skin, armour falling to the floor, defeated at long last. Had she known how short their time was, she would have never wasted one moment talking; there was no use. One day, Cosima would stop listening.

But she was too overwhelmed by her feelings to see reason. So on she talked, _"I have never thought about bisexuality, I mean, for myself, as a scientist I know that sexuality is a spectrum, social biases, they codify attraction, it's contrary to the biological facts..."_ Using scientific terms seemed like the only way out for such unbridled emotions born between two people – two  _women_  – so thoroughly devoted to logic and rationality. That is, until all that was left was silence, and true emotion arose, leaving room for nothing else.

But emotions were far from being her comfort zone. She could control them most times, sure, but that was hardly a synonym for knowledge. So when their wonderful house of cards fell to pieces, as if someone had merely coughed too close to the structure, she didn't know what else to do but  _talk. "You knew this all along, you can trust me, I_ _didn't want to fall for you, I wasn't supposed to_ _, but I have, it's not a lie, it's not possible..."_ To no avail. Words were worthless. Only actions could help her.

She took the first plane. She revealed what little she knew. She was  _there_  – and she got the closest thing to forgiveness Cosima could give her. They had their bliss, however limited by external conditions. Out of all her previous work with specially stubborn (micro)organisms, Cosima was hands down the most compelling subject she had ever examined, not just because she was obviously way more complex than viruses and bacteria, but because Delphine had let herself be infected by it – by  _her_. As sure as she was of her compromised state, she was sure that this disease that had spread so fast through her system was doomed to never heal. The deadliest of illnesses, love. Eventually, she knew, it could get her killed; it was a dangerous game she was playing, but she was determined to see it through.

What she didn't know, however, as much as she could have predicted it, was that this biological warfare of theirs was to be fought in silence. She had become so used to talking, to emptying her heart out as if it were a glass of wine, like the ones Cosima was so fond of drinking at night... Having to collect her feelings again, an ashamed one-night stand reclaiming her heavy garments from the battlefield, rudely exposed in enemy territory... A stranger to herself yet again.

To her surprise, it was terrifyingly easy, swallowing her soul in huge gulps until there was not a drop of poison left. The malady had to be purged out of her veins so she could keep on looking for a cure.

 _Frankfurt_. All it took was one word to change her whole world. This time she had learned her lesson, the one her school teachers had tried so hard to pass on: there was not a more powerful weapon than silence.

Diagnosis was easy enough. The treatment, on the other hand, caused the worst kind of pain she had ever experienced. Like bleeding to death in a deserted parking lot, with no one to hear her last words, with no clue as to which of these words would actually – _finally_ – be her last, she soldiered on. Scarred and bruised, battered and broken, she stood firmly on her heels, not a strand of golden straightened hair out of place, not a drop of blood staining her elegant clothes. Not even her infamous words betrayed her now, but the silence made her ears bleed. All the turmoil had to find an escape route somehow, and, as usual, it was precisely the silence that gave her away. Because regardless of her sealed lips, her eyes screamed all the agony devouring her from inside out so eloquently that only a fool, only someone whose heart had been wary of breaking from the start could have overlooked it. Only those who could –  _would_  not – see under the surface remained suspicious, when all it took to understand was the  _will_  to do so.

The benefit of the doubt was a luxury Delphine Cormier could not afford. Not anymore.

 _Le silence est d'or._  There was truth to this statement, she concluded, looking up, pretending her eyes weren't filled with tears, pretending her clothes weren't soaked with red. But, as in most sayings, there was also falsehood. She had tried both silver and gold – what was the use of them in death? In the end, her only reward had been a bullet, made of what metal she knew not nor cared to know, and the back of a stranger's car to offer support. There was no one to hear her last words. No one cared.

_La parole est d'argent._

There was nothing to hear, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> (I promise my next fic won't mention Delphine's last scene from season 3... Oop.)


End file.
